


Nosce Te Ipsum

by Little_Miss_Bunny



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Sawada Tsunayoshi, Child Abuse, Counselor!Sawada Tsunayoshi, Drugs, English Teacher!Kurokawa Hana, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone is Crazy, Gen, Just about every messed up thing you can think of honestly, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Older!Sawada Tsunayoshi, Smart Sawada Tsunayoshi, Teen Angst, Teenage!Arcobaleno, Therapist!Sawada Tsunayoshi, Violence, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-04-26 06:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14395848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Miss_Bunny/pseuds/Little_Miss_Bunny
Summary: "Know thyself."To the teachers, the students were just downright psychopaths (or sociopaths depending on who we were talking about here); but to Tsuna, they were only kids asking for help with no one else to turn to.Cross-posted from FF.





	1. Chapter 1

_“If there is no struggle, there is no progress.”_ – Frederick Douglass

* * *

It was a well-known fact that Vongola Academy accepted the best and only the best. 

It should be a privilege—elating, in fact—to find the pristine acceptance letter in the mailbox and the words “Congratulations!” typed elegantly in the first sentence. Then come what may as the family celebrated and gushed to anyone who’d listen about their child being set for life. 

For Reborn, the letter was just another stepping stone and nothing worth celebrating about.

 

His father hadn’t said anything at the dinner table. He only glanced at the letter before leaving an unfinished meal behind to take another call. His company stocks were being threatened again, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Reborn just ate his meal in silence and left for his room, the letter forgotten on the dining table. 

On orientation day—the academy was located in a beautiful expanse of land in Lombardy near Lake Iseo, a considerable distance from society—Reborn went alone. His father simply told him to stay out of trouble and Reborn promised him in the same bland tone they spoke in. However, they both knew it was an empty promise. 

Reborn didn’t think it was his fault that he attracted trouble. In fact, he reveled in it: the pleasant hum in his veins while fending off another assassin his father sent after him; the adrenaline rush when kicking an unguarded ribcage and shattering bones; and the satisfactory sensation of pulling the trigger and watching blood splatter on the walls. 

His father would beat him later for staining the carpet again, but Reborn took the hits with gritted teeth. Leon, their butler, would later tend his wounds and whisper comforting words in his ringing ears. He’d then let him eat coffee-flavored ice cream in his room. 

They were just enough to keep Reborn grounded. 

Summer was ending, if the cooling air was any indication. Leon had given Reborn a pair of thin black gloves before he left the car. Reborn just accepted them and tipped his fedora slightly in thanks. His hands tended to get cold easily, a weakness nonetheless as his father put it. 

Leon smiled warmly. “I’ll be right here when you’re finished.”

“I know.” 

Dressed in an impeccable suit and a thin gray coat, Reborn walked up the steps to the main entrance and took his time to assess his surroundings. Vongola Academy was large with architecture reminiscent of ancient Rome, but modern enough to look fresh and new. Tall, white gates marked the entrance and there were numerous courtyards decorated with pristinely-cut grass, small gardens, and white marble statues. The dormitory halls for both students and staff stood behind the main building alongside an infirmary ward. The academy’s middle school was just located to the right. 

Reborn had taken his time to study the academy’s blueprints before arriving. With his father’s influence and his own computer system, which he had built on his own, he also snooped through the school’s database, memorizing each and every one’s information, staff or student. There were some interesting peers, but he largely dismissed them as non-threatening and uninteresting. They only had one thing in common: they came from powerful families. 

A young woman greeted Reborn when he entered the main building. Brushing her off, he briefly perused the lobby. There was a long table stationed at the center with some students crowded around it, receiving their name tags. Reborn recognized everyone but didn’t speak to them; he heard some whispers around him. The lobby bridged out into two different hallways to its left and right. Large windows with pale-yellow drapes stood behind it, displaying the main courtyard where several students were already seated in rows facing a wide podium. 

When Reborn finally approached the table, a staff member said, “Name?” 

Dohachiro Nezu—a science teacher and one of the few who was from Japan. He was a middle-aged man with black hair and glasses; his brown suit was slightly rumpled and there were tan lines where his wedding ring should be. Reborn slightly pursed his lips. His Italian was accented but doable. 

“Renato.” 

Nezu shifted through the list before checking off his name and handing him his name tag pouch. Reborn’s birth name was typed in big, bold letters.

“Hats aren’t allowed,” Nezu said, glancing at him. 

The older man didn't stop Reborn when he walked away. Reborn shoved his name tag in his pocket, not even bothering to hang it around his neck. It was basically a sign for others to swarm him, and he was in no mood to listen to their sweet-talk. Whether it was getting in his pants or gaining a good standing with his father’s company, they all amounted to the same thing. It was predictable and annoying. 

Walking out to the courtyard, Reborn observed the students mingle and chatter to anyone who would listen. He was tempted to shoot them so they’d shut up, but Leon had patted him down and confiscated his guns earlier, even the one strapped to his ankle. Reborn had pulled a small face akin to a pout—his father had beaten him when he pulled the same thing after begging for a small toy on the window displays—but Leon didn’t budge. 

Reborn smirked. Well, he could always use one of those chairs to bash someone’s head in, even if it really wasn’t his style. Plus, he had noticed a stray needle in one of the window drapes he passed by, which happened to find a new home in his left pocket. He supposed he could thank the new, inexperienced seamstress for that and wondered how soon it’d take for her to get fired. 

Later, more students spilled into the courtyard, rapidly filling up the seats. No one approached Reborn. He merely watched and studied his soon-to-be classmates, filing away all their flaws he could expose later if they bothered him. Perhaps he should bug the school, too—not even should, he _will_. 

“Hello.” 

Reborn nearly jumped. His brows furrowed. How could he not have noticed someone there? He schooled his features and gazed at the student from the corner of his eye. It was a girl a head shorter than him with short blue hair and blue eyes. A white beret sat on top of her head. She didn’t wear her name tag. 

Luce de Giglio Nero—the only daughter to the wealthy Giglio Nero famiglia. Her family amassed large profits for years in the financial market, never staggering the slightest against their competitors; Reborn’s father even used their banks and they were on fairly neutral grounds. Luce was known to be very kind and considerate towards others, donating a large majority of her shares to charities and other causes. She wasn’t a threat but Reborn was still wary. Not noticing her presence was already enough reason to be. 

He nodded his head in greeting. Luce smiled, undeterred. “Would you like to sit with me? Most of the seats are already taken, but there’s an empty one next to me.” 

“Why?”

The question slipped without him thinking, though he _was_ curious. Luce was the only one to approach him directly so far. 

Luce giggled. “The orientation will be long and I doubt you’d want to keep standing until it’s over.” 

Reborn only found genuine kindness in her eyes—it was infuriating. It’d be so utterly simple to snap her thin neck in two. “Where is your seat?” 

Luce pointed at the middle row. Reborn pursed his lips. There were too many students and he preferred sitting in the back, but he supposed it’d do. He silently followed Luce to her seat. 

“My name is Luce.” 

“Reborn.” 

She didn’t question the oddity in the name and Reborn was somewhat grateful. She was tolerable, he supposed. Some girls giggled when he sat down. He promptly ignored them to briefly observe the other students. Luce conversed in fluent German with a girl to her right. 

“—other is dining with the French ambassador right now,” the other girl said, twirling a strand of her curly blonde hair. Sophia Breuer, third daughter to the CEO of Breuer & Schmidt Petroleum. 

“That sounds wonderful!” Luce said. “He’s a very nice man.” 

“I suppose. But then again, it’s not as impressive like meeting him _every day_. Is it true he’s having an affair with a maid?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know; but he loves his wife very much.” 

Sophia sniffed. “I guess even _you_ wouldn’t know everything.”

Luce laughed. “It’s unfortunate, I guess.”

Reborn was tempted to wipe that infuriating smile from Luce’s face, but kept his cool. It was her fault for being so open to everyone. 

“Is someone sitting here?” 

Reborn restrained a sigh. He peered from the brim of his fedora to see a tall blond boy gesturing at the empty seat next to him. His bright blue eyes and easy grin were irritating, but Reborn just shook his head. 

“Nice.” The boy sat down and stuck out his hand. “I’m Colonello.” 

Reborn ignored it. “Pleasure.”

 It got the reaction he expected. Colonello scoffed. “Yeah, pleasure. You must be the light of the parties.”

“Of course.”

Colonello rolled his eyes. “I can tell, kora.”

Reborn took a brief second to properly look at the other teen. Colonello Emilio, the second son to the Emilio famiglia. His father was a decorated war veteran and his whole patrilineal line served in the army and both world wars. Their business empire dealt with manufacturing weapons and had a strong relationship with the Italian military. Reborn had bought one of his guns from their company a year ago. It was satisfactory.

Before Colonello could say a word, the headmaster had already walked on stage. 

“Welcome,” he said warmly. “I’m glad to see so many bright faces today. I’m Timoteo Vongola, the headmaster of this prestigious institution. Your acceptance to Vongola Academy proves that you all have the potential to not only change the world but also to influence the many more generations to come. I…” 

Reborn tuned him out then. He perused the crowd, seeing that most students were actually listening to what the elderly man was saying. A few were texting secretly on their phones. The staff and teachers were seated near the podium, most of their faces blank while Timoteo spoke.

Rules were explained, more introductions were made, some applause and laughs here and there, and finally it was over. Reborn stood up to leave, not wanting to get roped in the social activities later, when he felt a prickle of pain through his foot. Someone grunted and fell on a heap to the floor. 

Gritting his teeth, Colonello pointed at Reborn. “You tripped me!” 

Reborn quirked a brow. “You stepped on my foot.”

Colonello stood up, clenching his hand into fists. Some students glanced their way while a few backed away, already sensing danger. Reborn was close to throttling the other teen if he didn’t have any restraint. 

“You tripped me on purpose, kora! I’m not an idiot!” 

Reborn suppressed a sigh. “Apparently, you are. You stepped on my foot, therefore tripped. I didn’t do it intentionally.” He couldn’t help but smirk. “Although, the ground suits you nicely.” 

He moved his head to the side when Colonello threw the first punch. The wind force that brushed his cheek indicated that the other teen had a mean right hook. Grabbing his prone arm, Reborn swept Colonello’s legs and easily pinned him to the ground. He dug his knee dangerously close to his spine, restraining the other’s arm behind his back. His needle hovered next to Colonello’s jugular vein. 

Colonello’s hiss was satisfying to hear. Although their scuffle was brief and painfully one-sided, Reborn could still feel a small thrill course through his veins. 

“Reborn, you’re hurting him!” 

Luce’s voice was distant in his ears along with the panicked cries from the other students. 

“I suggest you don’t pull anything stupid like that again, _Emilio_ ,” Reborn hissed in Colonello’s ear. “Nod once if you understand.” 

Colonello just growled, looking absolutely feral and ready to kill. Blood rushed in Reborn’s ears and his heart pounded against his chest. He’d have fun tearing this foolish prey apart. 

“I can break your spine.” Reborn dug his knee harshly against Colonello’ back. “Or I can just kill you right here. Make your choice.” 

The needle lightly brushed Colonello’s neck, making him shudder. Before any of them spoke, a loud voice shouted, “What are you two boys doing? Stop it this instant.” 

Timoteo appeared with a group of teachers and school officials behind him. He glowered, but Reborn was unfazed. He merely stood up and lightly brushed his black slacks. Colonello winced as he rotated his left shoulder and rubbed his neck.

Timoteo faced the watching students with pursed lips. “This is unacceptable behavior and will _not_ be tolerated.” He glanced at Reborn and Colonello. “Follow me, boys.” 

Reborn calmly walked ahead before Colonello joined his long strides, muttering angry curses under his breath. He glared at him, but Reborn just flashed him a charming smile in response. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle when the blond gawked at him.

* * *

Timoteo’s office was just as big and grand as the school’s interior; the only difference was that it was barer than the other rooms. A lot of the opulence was subdued with drawn curtains and a lack of sunlight. The cream-colored walls were empty save for some bookshelves filled with books in several different languages. 

“I’m very disappointed in you two,” Timoteo said from his large burgundy desk. “It’s only orientation day and you’re already at each other’s throats.” 

Colonello jabbed his thumb at Reborn. “He—” 

Timoteo raised his hand, silencing him. “Mr. Emilio, save your words. Mr. Sinclair, I am more disappointed that someone like you would be getting involved in these kinds of scuffles.” 

“Will you tell my father?” Reborn said blankly. 

If he found out what happened, his father wouldn’t feed Reborn for the next few days. It wasn’t the worst he did and Reborn was fine with slipping past the maids to get to the kitchen. If anything, Leon would sneak some meals to his room where he’d be forced to isolate himself. 

“No.” The answer caught Reborn slightly off-guard. “Dragging your father in your own mess is unnecessary. You two better fix whatever misgivings you have with each other before the school year begins. We won’t be tolerating any more of this behavior. Consider yourself warned, boys.” 

“Yes, sir,” the teens said. 

Reborn left the room first with Colonello trailing behind him. He glanced at his watch: 12:57 PM. The orientation had started at 11:30. This was just a complete waste of his time. 

“Hey!” 

Reborn turned around to face a scowling Colonello. He quirked a brow. “What?” 

“Apologize, kora!” 

“I don’t see why I have to do that.” 

“You tripped me, asshole!” 

“I told you. I didn’t trip you. You stepped on my foot.” 

Colonello gritted his teeth. “You also threatened to kill me!”

Reborn smirked. “You were the one who threw the first punch. I was only acting in self-defense.” 

“W—” 

“Reborn!” 

The two boys blinked when Luce ran towards them, her blue eyes filled with worry. She panted lightly to catch her breath from the short run. Weak. 

“Thank goodness!” Luce said. “I thought I’d miss you. Are you two alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Reborn said curtly. 

Colonello furrowed his brows. “Is she your girlfriend?” 

Biting back a sigh, Reborn settled with a blank stare. “No.”

Luce smiled sweetly. “My name is Luce! And no, we just met today. You must be…?” 

“I’m Colonello!” 

Reborn was already walking away when they exchanged their greetings, sending a brief text to Leon to let him know he was leaving. 

“Reborn, where are you going?” Luce said. 

“Home.” 

“You won’t stay?” 

“No.” 

“Eh, just leave him,” Colonello said. “He’s not worth it.” 

“Ah, well, travel safely then, Reborn! I hope to see you again!” 

Reborn didn’t respond. He exited through the main entrance and walked down the steps. The fresh air helped clear his thoughts momentarily before he found Leon’s car. He could feel a headache incoming when he opened the door and slipped in the backseat. The black leather was warm and comfortable underneath him; the spicy fragrance that wafted in his nose was soothing while he got himself settled. 

Leon nodded in greeting after tucking away his newspaper. “Welcome back, Reborn.” 

Reborn just grunted in response. Crossing his long legs, he gazed out the window and watched the soft green hills pass by. The sun shone terribly bright in the cloudless sky. Vongola Academy soon became a white speck behind them. 

“How was the orientation?” 

“It was a waste of time.” 

Leon chuckled. “Everything is a waste of time to you. Perhaps you should take up on those calligraphy lessons that Miss Penelope has offered a few weeks ago. I hear it’s quite therapeutic.”

Reborn huffed. “I write well enough, Leon. You’ve seen my handwriting.” 

An amused glint shone in the elderly man’s eyes. “Yes, and it _is_ lovely. However, writing without much purpose can help curve that temper of yours.”

“I don’t have a temper.” 

Leon just hummed. Reborn tipped his fedora lower to hide his scowl. However, Leon knew him like the back of his hand and didn’t need to see his face to guess what he was thinking. Having served the Sinclairs for many years, Leon was considered family and the only one who could talk reason to his father. Words couldn’t describe how much Reborn needed Leon—he’d shoot himself before he’d admit them out loud. 

“Actually, I’m surprised you came out unscathed. You haven’t caused any trouble, have you?” 

Reborn smiled innocently. “When have I ever caused trouble?” 

Leon rolled his eyes, though there was a tinge of fondness within them. “Always.” 

“It’s fine. Father won’t know.” 

Leon raised a brow. “He’ll find out eventually. What happened? I could speak to him but I cannot guarantee tha—” 

“Timoteo said he won’t tell.” 

“Ah, I see. How kind of him.” Leon frowned. “You shouldn’t be calling the headmaster by his name so casually, Reborn. That is very rude.” 

Reborn just grunted, not meeting Leon’s gaze. Timoteo was influential and powerful in his own right, someone even his father grudgingly respected; there were even rumors that he was a don to the mafia though they were unfounded and no one dared to ask him directly. He was a man of principle and honor, which was admirable Reborn supposed, but he was growing old and his three sons were already fighting tooth and nail to take over his vast oil empire. 

What a contradictory position, Reborn mused. Exploiting the land but giving back to the supposedly brighter, better generation, who’d just poison the earth with their insignificant existence. 

“Well, what do you think of your peers?” Leon said, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

Luce and Colonello briefly flashed in Reborn’s mind. He furrowed his brows. Why would _they_ appear in his head? They meant nothing to him. One was a demure little lamb while the other was an uncontrollable mutt. His breath hitched when he remembered the thrill from pinning Colonello to the ground and exhibiting his dominance. Well, he supposed that’d make the other students avoid him for the rest of his school years. However, why was he doubting that? 

Reborn finally spoke, “Nothing.” 

“You think nothing of them or consider them nothing to you?” 

“Both.” 

Leon sighed. “I suppose it was too farfetched of me to think you would make friends here.” 

Reborn just smiled, showing some teeth. “I applaud you for thinking so optimistically in such dark times like these, Leon.”

“Well, what do you think of the academy? You’ll be living there for the next four years. Is it at least to your liking?” 

“It’s fine.” 

Leon smiled gently. “I’ll miss you, Reborn. The house will be much quieter without you.” 

Reborn scoffed, but there was no heat in his words. “I thought you’d like the peace.” 

“I’d rather much prefer it if you were there.” 

“That’s not what the maids would say. I’m sure they’d be absolutely _ecstatic_ when I’m gone.”

“Semantics, Reborn.” 

Huffing, Reborn covered his face with his fedora. “Wake me when we’re there.” 

“Of course.” 

As he drifted to sleep, Reborn couldn’t help his lips from curving into a small smile.

* * *

Of course, much to Reborn’s intuition’s scornful pleasure, the first year at Vongola Academy was becoming an absolute headache—and it was only goddamn October. 

He didn’t know how he got stuck with Luce and Colonello. He had only been minding his own business when Luce found him, dragging Colonello behind her. They were an odd trio, but no one said anything about it. Reborn could tolerate Luce, but Colonello was a whole other matter. 

For the umpteenth time that day, Reborn restrained every nerve he had from pulling out his gun and shooting Colonello in the head—emphasis on the “every”. The idiot just wouldn’t _shut up_. Lal Mirch this, Lal Mirch that. Why was he being picked on in PE? Why did she hate him so much? Wow, she was pretty strong for a girl. Oh, did you know she took a year off? Not sure why but she’d graduate with their year. 

Reborn clenched his jaw while he scribbled on his English homework. His knuckles turned white from gripping his pen too tightly. 

“Colonello, you should go wash your face,” Luce said. “You still have some dirt on your cheek.” 

“Oh, right,” Colonello said. “Thanks! I’ll be right back! Don’t steal my food, asshole!” 

Drawing irritated stares, Colonello dashed to the bathroom. How the trio wasn’t kicked out of the library yet—including the academy—was a miracle in itself. Colonello and Reborn’s fights nearly destroyed _half_ the school within the first weeks of the semester, and nothing could stop them. Timoteo would scold them, slap their wrists, and force them to reconcile, which just lead to more fistfights and guns blazing. Reborn felt a tad smug when Timoteo gave up on them. Other students proved to be much more troublesome, especially in the middle school branch. 

Luce giggled. “You look tense.” 

“How do you figure?” Reborn said, snatching one of Colonello’s ham and pickle crostini. 

“He said not to touch his food.”

“He won’t notice.” 

Luce pursed her lips. “It’s food, Reborn. Colonello will notice.” 

Shrugging, Reborn swallowed the toasted bread. “Food isn’t allowed in the library anyways. I’m doing him a favor.” 

Luce shook her head. “I don’t understand why you antagonize him so much.” 

“It’s been two months already. I’m sure you know by now. If not, then this relationship between us has been for nothing.” 

Luce didn’t react to his sarcasm, like always. She was insanely patient with both of them, which was a testament to her kind nature. Anyone else would’ve jumped off a cliff by now. Reborn supposed he could respect that—grudgingly. 

“Well, we have a new counselor starting today.” 

Reborn quirked a brow. “Oh?” 

Luce smiled, a bit pleased to know something Reborn didn’t for once. He found it both oddly irritating and endearing. “Yes. Judith told me.” 

Reborn twirled his pen. “I see.” 

Luce frowned. “Aren’t you interested?” 

“I’m not asking.” 

“Not even a little?” 

“No. You’ll eventually tell me anyways.” 

“I won’t.” 

“You will. I’m just waiting patiently like the good friend I’m supposed to be.” 

A beat of silence passed before Luce finally sighed in defeat. She was so very predictable. Despite her kind disposition, she was drawn to gossip like most girls and since she mostly hung out with him and Colonello, they had no choice but to listen to her chatter. It was helpful sometimes, but Reborn could only tolerate so much incessant prattling. The teachers and students still hadn’t figured out that he bugged the whole school, including their dorm rooms. Well, ignorance was bliss.

Luce scowled but it looked more like a pout. “You’re terrible.” 

Reborn’s lips slightly twitched. “Thank you.” 

“Get out of my head.” 

“I’m not in your head.” Reborn smiled, showing teeth. “I _am_ your head.” 

“Oh my God, _stop_. That sounds terrible, even for you.” 

“The strawberry crepe was delicious this morning,” Reborn said in an eerily accurate imitation of Luce’s sweet voice. “I wonder where Anne got those bracelets. Maybe I should ask her later. Oh, the flowers in the South Courtyard are beautiful as always. Mr. Kerrigan looks so handsome today. I hope he looks at me once. Why did I have to sit in the back? Does he even know I exist? Oh, he called my name! Bless roll call and his wonderful face.”

Luce gaped. “How—” 

“Gertrude’s being rude today. I never liked her but her brother’s very sick at home so I can’t blame her much. Oh, Mr. Talbot is giving back our quizzes. I hope I did well or else Reborn will kill me. Numbers are just terrible. Whose bright idea was it to mix numbers and letters together anyways? I wish they’d serve raspberry pie again for dessert later. W—” 

“ _Okay!_ ” Luce squeaked, covering her face. “I get it!” 

Reborn just smiled. “I’d be more than happy to tell you more.” 

“No!” 

Reborn stifled a chuckle. Really, it was just too easy. Luce groaned into her hands. 

“You’re _terrible_. Absolutely despicable.” 

“We’ve established that already.” 

Luce sighed. “No wonder Ms. Rivers quit. Is this what you did to her?” 

Apparently, Timoteo had thought it was a wonderful idea for some students to meet with a counselor every week. To sort out their repressed issues, he said. However, there were only five counselors. It wasn’t a secret that the fights in Vongola Academy involved more than a simple punch and kick. Guns, knives, steel wires, emotional manipulation—it was a raging battlefield of both mind and body. Reborn supposed that that made school life a bit bearable. There was never a day the academy would be wracked without an explosion or two. 

Reborn’s old counselor, Ms. Rivers, had worked with juvenile delinquents in the States, but she supposedly had never met someone like him before. More like she was incompetent at her job, but he digressed. It was quite fun to mess with her; however, he quickly lost interest when she ate up every word he dished out to her. It wasn’t until she quit a few weeks ago that he could enjoy the results of his victory. 

No useless counseling, no talking “heart-to-heart”, no nosy stranger—he was able to return to the perfect solitary life he had before. 

Reborn smiled slightly. “There are many other ways to break a person. Would you like to hear? I’m very creative.” 

“No! Just, no! Please keep your thoughts to yourself.” 

Reborn shrugged. “Okay, but you’re missing out.”

Luce sighed. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to scare the new counselor off like that, too.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Won’t what?” 

“Won’t tell you.” 

Reborn smirked when Luce huffed and shook her head. “You’re impossible. The counselors are here to _help_ us.”

“I’m perfectly fine the way I am.” 

“You’re a sociopath, I swear.” 

“You flatter me.” 

Luce groaned before returning to her half-finished homework. “Well…I heard that he’s Japanese.” She scowled when Reborn smiled knowingly. “He’s good friends with Ms. Kurokawa, too. People think he must’ve gotten in because of her recommendation.” 

Ah, Hana Kurokawa, their English teacher and the only few who could handle the students to an extent. She was a strict, no-bullshit woman with an interesting resume. Born in Japan then later raised in England. Graduated from the University of Oxford at the top of her class before being scouted by Vongola Academy. She at least assigned interesting readings other than the repetitive Shakespeare. All in all, she was the only teacher Reborn respected to a degree. 

“Actually, Reborn,” Luce said, tapping her chin with her pink pen, “isn’t today Thursday?” 

Reborn quirked a brow. “Yes.” 

“Your appointments were on Thursdays at 3, right?” Luce tilted her head. “Since this counselor is replacing Ms. Rivers, don’t you have to go?” 

“I didn’t get any letter.”

“So…you won’t go?” 

“What do you take me for?” 

“Not even to say hello?” 

Reborn took another crostini from Colonello’s plate and chewed on it in mock-thought. “No. Not interested.” 

“Reb—” 

“What the hell, kora? Stop touching my damn food, asshole!” 

Reborn reached for his gun just as Colonello reached for his rifle. 

“Reborn! Colonello! Don’t!”

Bullets and screams immediately tore through the air.

* * *

Timoteo personally escorted Reborn to the counselor ward the next day. 

The headmaster had a rather impressive blank look while he led the teen to the Eastern Wing. It was where most of the administrative offices were, but Reborn digressed. He was already thinking of ways to make the new counselor leave. The position would be temporarily replaced but it was enough time for Reborn to recuperate. 

“Reborn, I don’t want a repeat of last time,” Timoteo said gruffly. 

“What do you mean, sir?” 

“Don’t make me call your father, young man.” 

That shut Reborn up. 

He rarely communicated with his father, only reciprocating messages if he was contacted first, which was once in a blue moon. On the other hand, Leon messaged him every day, asking if he was doing alright and updating him on the state of affairs at home. Those were the only times Reborn actually looked forward to aside from getting a decent cup of coffee. For a rich school, their espresso was mediocre.

Timoteo opened the door to the counselors’ office without knocking. Trailing behind him, Reborn tugged his fedora down. The office was large and clean, smelling like violets and paper, obnoxiously so. There was the secretary’s desk and a new gray-blue coach in the waiting area. A student had torn the old one with his switchblade. A long hallway stretched to the right where all the counselors were located. Some doors were closed with the “Do Not Disturb” sign turned up, muffled murmurs sounding from inside. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Vongola,” Ms. Bellani said, smiling. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Timoteo smiled. “Good afternoon, Alda. Yes, is Mr. Sawada here?” 

“He’s in his room, sir. I’ll let him know you’re here.” 

“No need. He knows that I’m coming. Thank you.”

The secretary smiled before turning back to her computer. Reborn silently followed Timoteo down the long hallway. The counselor’s office was at the end of the hall, the door open. 

Reborn had briefly investigated the new counselor on whatever available systems he could infiltrate. He was marginally surprised that all the bugs he previously left in the office were gone, leaving him to guess about the young man’s mannerisms and quirks. Nonetheless, the information he had was enough. He did find it intriguing though that Tsunayoshi had worked in Vendicare, a mental institution in Ostfildern, Germany, for the criminally insane. One of the warden’s sons attended the academy: Bermuda Von Veckenschtein. 

However, Reborn was more interested in getting rid of the counselor than getting to know him. 

Smirking, he at least hoped that this Tsunayoshi was a nice challenge. He’d give him a week at best to be generous and three days before he cracked— maybe two.

Timoteo knocked on the open door and spoke in Japanese. “Tsunayoshi-kun?” 

Reborn had learned the language years ago when his father dealt business in Tokyo. It was only another language tacked onto his impressive list. 

“Ah, Timoteo-san!” There was a loud clatter, making Reborn slightly sneer. Wonderful—a klutz. Someone chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry, I sometimes overestimate my own height.” 

Timoteo smiled with a fond look in his eyes. “That’s alright. Would you like some help?”

Timoteo gestured Reborn inside, and the teen grudgingly complied. He perused the surprisingly neat office. It looked the same as last time but there was less Ms. Rivers and more…Tsunayoshi Sawada, he supposed. The scent was a bit more bearable—tea and chrysanthemum. The walls were a soft gray and the large window was wide open, letting in the cool autumn breeze. Ms. Rivers always had it closed. The bookshelf against the wall was already stacked with several books; unsurprisingly, they were mostly on psychology and philosophy, some written in different languages. A few titles caught Reborn’s interest but her didn’t linger too long on them. The small shelf behind the counselor’s desk, however, was only half-filled, and several books had fallen to the floor. 

Reborn’s gaze then met warm brown eyes. 

Sawada Tsunayoshi was a young man with soft brown hair and an even softer face, looking almost feminine if it weren’t for his surprisingly lithe build. He was just an inch or so shorter than Reborn, wearing a white-collared shirt with black slacks. His suit jacket hung neatly over his chair and his desk was bare, except for the school computer and his phone, which had a small lion charm. How childish. 

“I’m sure Reborn would like to help,” Timoteo said. 

Before Reborn could protest, the headmaster gave him a stern look. He could sense the threat of calling his father on the tip of Timoteo’s tongue. 

Tsunayoshi waved his hands. “Oh, no! I’m fine.” 

Clicking his tongue, Reborn walked over to pick up the fallen books. He stacked them quickly on Tsunayoshi’s desk before stepping away. Tsunayoshi blinked before smiling at him. It was irritatingly too kind, like Luce’s. 

“Thank you,” he said, speaking in startlingly fluent Italian. There was no trace of an accent. 

He gathered the other books to stack them neatly on his desk. Reborn stared at the hand he stuck out. It was smaller than his, his fingers long and slender, and all too easy to break. 

“My name is Saw—Oh, Tsunayoshi Sawada. You can just call me Tsuna.” 

“Reborn.” 

Tsuna perked up. “You must be the infamous Reborn I’ve heard about.” 

“I’m flattered.” 

Disappointingly, Tsuna didn’t even blink at Reborn’s charming smile. He just continued smiling and retracted his hand. 

“Well, I’ll leave you two be, Tsunayoshi-kun,” Timoteo said with a nod. 

“Oh, you don’t want any tea, Timoteo-san?” 

“No, no, perhaps another time. I’ll see you later.” Timoteo gave Reborn a look. “ _Behave_.” 

Reborn smiled innocently. “Always, sir.” 

Shaking his head, Timoteo left and closed the door quietly behind him. A relatively awkward silence fell in the office. Reborn glanced at the clock. Sessions ran half an hour and it was already ten minutes past three. This was fine. He accepted the challenge. 

“Would you like something to drink, Reborn-kun?” Tsuna said, walking over to the brewing machine that wasn’t there last time. 

Reborn huffed lightly before sitting down on the blue chair across the counselor’s desk. It was brand new. “Just call me Reborn.” 

Tsuna smiled sheepishly. “Oh, my bad. It’s hard for me to get rid of the Japanese suffixes sometimes. Reborn then.” 

“I want espresso.” 

Without batting an eyelash, Tsuna nodded. “Alright.”

Ms. Rivers always threw a fit about Reborn’s coffee obsession, but he ignored her, and instead, imagined snapping all of her ribs in two within a ten-minute interval of each other. It was an entertaining thought—pity it never happened. 

The coffee machine whirred quietly as Tsuna expertly handled the brew. Reborn didn’t look away from the other man, not even when he turned to hand him his drink. He was relaxed, too relaxed. It was all too easy to just pull out his gun and shoot Tsuna’s head. Reborn supposed that years at Vendicare had hardened the man in a way. Still, it was ridiculous at how soft and unassuming Tsuna looked.

Reborn tapped his finger contemplatively on his armrest. He wasn’t mentally unhinged like the criminals Tsuna had worked with, but he could act like it if he wanted to. It was just a matter of question if Tsuna would buy into his act or not. And Reborn was confident that he will. All he had to do was act like a sniveling victim and tug at the brunet’s heartstrings. He was certain that Tsuna had a heart of gold.

“Here.” 

The rich smell of espresso almost made Reborn melt, but he kept a straight face. It reminded him of Leon’s brew at home. Blowing gently, Reborn sipped the cup. The hot liquid burned his tongue but the strong, bitter taste made up for it. Tsuna knew how to make an espresso. 

Tsuna leaned against his desk and stretched out his slim legs. “How is it?”

“It’s okay.” 

Reborn held back a scoff when Tsuna pouted. The man had his own cup of tea, which he sipped quietly. A few minutes passed between them, which slightly irked Reborn. Why wasn’t Tsuna talking? Ms. Rivers had always talked his ear off, nagging him about this and that. 

He peered at Tsuna over his cup. Finally, which was too long for his liking, he noticed that the counselor was studying him under the guise of a pleasant smile, and suddenly, Reborn figured out that _he_ was under the microscope. His jaw involuntarily clenched. 

“Aren’t you going to talk?” he said, keeping his voice steady. 

Tsuna’s lips twitched into a small smile. Reborn was sorely tempted to shoot him. “I’m not here to talk. I’m waiting for you.” 

Reborn raised a brow. “Me?” 

Tsuna shrugged. “Well, that’s how counseling works. You talk, I listen. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

The question sounded strangely rhetorical. Reborn clicked his tongue. “I’m only here because Timoteo made me come here.”

Tsuna didn’t miss a beat. “He must’ve had a reason to. He’s not the type of man to do anything without one.” 

“His reason is unfounded. I’m perfectly fine the way I am.” 

Tsuna smiled, his amusement clear like day now. Reborn’s fingers twitched but he opted to sip his espresso again. It temporarily calmed his nerves.

“You’re fine the way you are or with who you are?” 

Reborn’s brows furrowed. This question was _definitely_ rhetorical. His caffeinated mind whirled. He was perfectly fine with both. He had never bothered to change how he acted towards others. It was deeply ingrained in his head that the world worked in two ways: you climb or you fall. The only thing that mattered was how you did it. His father made it clear on how easy it was to slip, but Reborn knew that anyways without being told. 

And he was fine with who he was. 

“Aren’t they the same thing?” he said, testing the waters. 

Tsuna’s lips slightly twitched. “No.” 

Another minute passed. Reborn waited for Tsuna to talk again, to elaborate what he meant, but he didn’t. This…wasn’t going the way Reborn expected. It would be much easier if Tsuna did the talking while he responded with answers that’d trip him up. Fine, he just had to take a different approach. 

Reborn met Tsuna’s gaze, noting how his eyes looked more like amber than brown. “I don’t talk much.”

Tsuna nodded. The thing was, he actually looked like he understood, which unnerved Reborn. “That’s alright. I can wait.” 

“You’re going to wait a long time then.”

Tsuna smiled. “I’m a very patient man, Reborn-kun.”

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Ah, my bad. Old habits die hard.” 

Reborn pursed his lips. “I can tell.”

Tsuna chuckled before glancing at his watch. “Oh, we went a little overtime. It was nice to meet you, Reborn. Will I be seeing you next Friday?”

Reborn stood up gracefully. Did that much time pass already? “I don’t know.” 

Tsuna smiled. “Alright then. Take care, Reborn. Ha—Oh, wait.” Reborn raised a brow when he walked around his desk to open one of his drawers. “Here.”

Reborn just stared at the man. Huffing, Tsuna grabbed Reborn’s free hand before he could react and placed some things in his palm. They were his bugs, all broken. 

Tsuna smiled brilliantly. “Have a good weekend.” 

And just like that, it was over. 

* * *

 

Reborn didn’t even notice he still held the cup of coffee in his hand until he entered his dorm. He stared at the mug, his pocket feeling oddly heavy from his broken bugs’ light weight. The coffee was cold. 

_What a waste,_ he thought blandly, dumping the coffee and mug in the kitchen sink. 

His dorm was large and spacious with a kitchen and common room, which he rarely used. It had a nice view of the North Wing where most classes were held. The only downfall was that he had a roommate. Viper or Mammon—whatever the boy wanted to be called. Reborn could really care less. The other boy was a son to government intelligence officers from France and was quiet, always holed up in his room or snooping around the academy collecting information. They rarely saw each other. 

Reborn paused. He fished out his broken bugs. There were six of them. This was all of them. A small shudder ran up his spine. Tsunayoshi Sawada—what an annoyingly interesting man.

Before he knew it, he was knocking on Viper’s door. He could hear the faint clacking of the keyboard inside. 

“I know you’re in there,” Reborn said. 

The typing paused. There was the rustling of bed sheets and feet shuffling before the door opened just a crack. It was dark inside the bedroom; the only light was from Viper’s monitor systems. Reborn had snooped in his room before—really, picking a lock or two and disabling the key access system wasn’t all that hard—and was impressed with the three monitor screens Viper had set up.

“Mou, what do you want?” Viper said. His Italian had traces of his French accent, but it wasn’t terrible. 

“I need you to do something for me,” Reborn said. 

There was a short beat of silence. 

“My services a—”

“I have money. You know I do.”

The shorter boy pursed his lips. “You snuck in my room.”

“I’ll pay extra for the inconvenience.”

Viper opened the door just a little wider. He wore a pair of sweatpants and an overlarge hoodie that covered his eyes. Typical. At least, he showered and was clean. “What is it?” 

“I need you to get information for me.”

“Elaborate.”

“Tsunayoshi Sawada.” 

“Mou, the new counselor?” 

Reborn suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes. How soon can you get the intel?” 

“Depends on what you want to know.” 

“Everything.” 

Viper hummed. “Wait here.” He closed his door then, making Reborn actually roll his eyes when the lock clicked. Maybe he’d leave small gifts in Viper’s room just to mess with him. A few seconds passed before Viper opened the door again and handed him a piece of paper. “Wire the money there, then get rid of it. I’ll text you the payment details later. And call me Mammon, not Viper.” 

With that, he promptly shut the door in Reborn’s face.

Reborn didn’t even question how Viper knew his number. He supposed he should be more worried about what Viper knew about him, but didn’t find himself caring much. Viper didn’t do anything unless money was involved. Then again, someone could pay him for Reborn’s information. Well, he didn’t mind a small hunt once in a while. 

Brewing himself another coffee, Reborn checked his phone to see that Leon had sent him a message a while ago, asking how his day went. His shoulders relaxed a bit. 

Still, while he texted a quick response, he couldn’t ignore his heart’s quickening pulse.

There was a bigger hunt afoot—and he’d take his time tearing his prey apart.


	2. Chapter 2

_“It is not titles that honor men, but men that honor titles.”_ – Niccolo Machiavelli 

* * *

 

No one ever approached Bermuda and Bermuda never approached anyone. 

It was an unspoken rule in Vongola Academy—or anywhere else for that matter—to never go near someone from the von Veckenschtein family. Bermuda thought it was a nice rule; he preferred spending days away from the vast majority of cretins. 

To many, it was obvious that Bermuda didn’t like people, or human beings in general; they were vile, disgusting, and so utterly stupid that it made his blood boil just thinking about the so-called intelligent species. 

Of course, he didn’t believe himself to be a human being. He was so much more than that. He was a fledgling of God, a carrier of His blood, a warrior with a duty bounded to the very concept of justice itself—and he would do anything to carry it out. Damn any poor souls standing in his way. 

So, when Bermuda’s acceptance letter arrived in the mail, his father, tall, refined, and imposing as always, had given him a nod and a firm pat on the back. Bermuda’s four older brothers, who were just as high and mighty—their family was above the rest of the world, in fact—had each patted him on the head, which he disliked very much but endured, and given him some pointers here and there until the term started. 

Alejandro, the eldest, had given Bermuda one of his Ginger Bread dolls that the Vendicare inmates _despised_ —they were placed in strategic places to spy on them with camera-reinforced eye lenses, and maybe to frighten some in their sleep—as a good luck charm of sorts, but it was more seen as a terrible omen for the superstitious. Still, Bermuda was fond of the doll since it looked like someone he liked very much. 

Jack had eagerly brought him to an interrogation room, giving him time to actually interrogate some inmates, which Jager never let him do. Something about Bermuda being too young, but Jack had said it was because he was the baby of the family, which was ridiculous because Bermuda wasn’t a baby or fashioned out of glass. Still, he liked the interrogations and was both fascinated and disgusted at how depraved the inmates were. His respect for Jager had increased tenfold then. 

The twins, Gianmaria and Pino, who were nicknamed Small Gia and Big Pino by the inmates amusingly enough, had taken him aside and gave him an extensive rundown on the academy’s layout, their security systems, how many desks, bolts, and nails were in each room, and probably every other violent (but creative) ways on how to hurt— _kill_ —someone if it ever came to it. Well, that was more Gianmaria talking. Pino, who was mute, had given him some reinforced chains and wires (and probably some other nondescript weapons in the suitcase he gave Bermuda, but he digressed. He hadn’t opened it yet). 

All in all, Bermuda had quite the send-off before leaving for Vongola Academy. 

It was a beautiful school on a nice landscape, very much different from his small hometown, Ostfildern. The academy also brimmed with vibrant life that couldn’t compare to the drab and gray Vendicare, but Bermuda quickly learned to hate it as soon as he stepped on campus. 

Everyone was hideously vile underneath their sickly-sweet exterior—it was just maddening.

There wasn’t a day without some kind of destruction. Bermuda had steered clear from the heart of such violent battles, noting who hated who, who wanted who dead, and so on and so forth. The ones he avoided at all costs were Reborn and Colonello, even if they weren’t the cause of all the fights. Still, Bermuda could spot a predator anywhere and Reborn was certainly one. 

Jager had asked him not to cause any trouble at the academy and God’s word was law so Bermuda had promised he wouldn’t. 

So, he survived the first month of school without any messes. He attended classes dutifully, avoided anyone who’d cause any trouble, which was the entire school population, and called his father once a week. Vongola Academy was a prestigious institution that certainly held high standards, which he came to grudgingly respect, and kept him busy in terms of school work. Clubs and other social events weren’t even on his priorities list. 

And then everything came to a standstill in the second week of October. 

Leaving his last class, Bermuda returned to his dormitory, which was located on the east side of campus and closer to Cielo where the headmaster, school board officials, and other administration members lived. There were thirteen residence halls, eight for the students in the high school and middle school division and eight for the staff members, which were divided accordingly based on their titles. 

He lived in Tempesta with the other first years in the high school division and Lancia, a physics teacher, as its housemaster. Bermuda didn’t particularly like the man; for a seemingly intimidating figure, Lancia was soft-hearted, making him one of the more popular teachers. Bermuda never spoke to him either and rarely met him in passing. 

He was also displeased about having a roommate, but it was unavoidable. His roommate was from a wealthy family in Beijing. Bermuda wasn’t fond of him, but the other only sent him polite nods and smiles if they happened to pass each other. Bermuda merely returned them out of courtesy. His father was a stickler for etiquette and made sure that it’d at least stuck with his youngest son. 

After foregoing the elevator to climb the stairs to the third floor, Bermuda found his room quickly and scanned his ID card against the scanner. A small beep indicated the door was unlocked. The scent of oolong tea wafted in the air when he entered. Although he preferred black tea, he didn’t mind the fragrance. That was at least one thing he and Fon had in common. 

His roommate sat at the dining table with his back facing him, reading a letter of some kind. He still wore his uniform with his long braid reaching his hips. Bermuda saw a glimpse of Chinese characters on the paper Fon was reading before dismissing them altogether. He wouldn’t understand it and it was also none of his business. The boys exchanged nods before Bermuda disappeared in his room, closing the door behind him. 

It was large for a single with a personal bathroom and a queen-sized bed draped with gray covers. Slinging his bag around his chair, Bermuda unbuttoned his blazer and hung it on his coat rack. He fished out his phone from his slacks and quietly waited for the time to change to three. 

His phone immediately buzzed as soon as the next minutes passed by. His father soon spoke on the other line. “Good afternoon, Bermuda.” 

Bermuda’s native language, German, flowed easily from his tongue. “Good afternoon, Father.” 

“How has your week been?”

“It was fine. There’s nothing to worry about.” 

Jager chuckled. “Well, yes, I suppose. How are your classes? Did you submit your English essay?” 

Huffing, Bermuda sat down at the edge of his bed. He couldn’t help but glance at the mirror hanging above his bathroom sink, noting his pale skin and inky, straight black hair. Mindlessly, he smoothed out the wrinkling in his sheets. 

“Of course, Father,” he said. “It’s irresponsible of me not to.” 

“Yes, it’s important to—” 

“Always do what is requested of you to the best of your capabilities if willing.” Bermuda slightly winced. “I apologize, Father. That was rude of me. I did not mean to interrupt you.” 

Jager chuckled. “It’s fine, Bermuda. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m proud that you have learned my teachings very well.” He sighed softly, a small break from his perfectly calm composure. “If only your brothers had learned too, it would make things much easier.” 

Bermuda’s lips twitched into a small smile. While he wasn’t entirely absolved from his guilt of interrupting his father, he was quite proud whenever Jager mentioned him being better than his brothers in some ways. Alejandro was known for his strange obsessions, but ultimately trusted with Vendicare’s security; Jack had a way with words that could effectively destroy another person’s psyche; Gianmaria was ultimately feared by several Vendicare inmates for his sadistic and bizarre punishments; and Pino had distinguished himself from his older twin by intimidating others into compliance if need be. 

Bermuda didn’t hate his brothers, but even he sometimes knew how insufferable they could be. 

“Thank you, Father.” 

“Perhaps I taught you too well,” Jager said, chuckling. “Ah, there is something I wanted to discuss. This may be of some interest to you.” 

“What is it?” 

“You remember Tsunayoshi, yes?”

Bermuda slightly tensed. His heart immediately accelerated as the image of the said brunet bloomed in his mind. The man’s gentle smile, his compassionate eyes, his light, sweet laughter—yes, how could he ever forget Tsunayoshi, his Angel, the Savior, and the Merciful? 

“Yes, I do,” Bermuda said, regaining his composure quickly. “Why do you ask, Father?” 

“He transferred to your school yesterday to become a counselor. And before you speak, I allowed him to go. It was solely his decision. I’m sure you have questions you want to ask him, so I suggest you meet with him to sort out it out accordingly.” 

Bermuda’s hand clenched tightly around his phone, his heart almost coming to a complete stop. Of course, he had questions. Tsunayoshi had been the only ray of light in Vendicare. Bermuda was certain that Tsunayoshi didn’t have any reason to leave Vendicare; there were too many who needed him and it was something Bermuda couldn’t comprehend. 

“Bermuda?” 

Jager’s voice snapped him out of his daze. “I apologize, Father. That is…rather unexpected. I did not think Tsunayoshi would leave Vendicare.” 

“Everyone has their own path to follow, Bermuda. He is only following his. I just wanted to inform you because I believed that you had the right to know. Tsunayoshi would not have told you himself unless you happened to meet him by chance, which I presume hasn’t happened yet. I know you’re quite fond of him.” Jager chuckled. “Jack and Gianmaria nearly chained him to a room before he could leave.” 

_They are fools for not succeeding,_ Bermuda thought. 

Jager sighed. “I suppose it will be fairly quiet without Tsunayoshi around. He’s a bright man. We haven’t informed the inmates but I can only imagine how they’d react, especially Varia.” 

Ah, yes, Varia—a small makeshift group that had formed some odd camaraderie. Each member was viler than the next and considered lower than even animals. Bermuda pursed his lips. While they could be handled—Vendicare wasn’t the top mental institution for the criminally insane without reason—a few had managed to escape once or twice before, the ringleader being one of them. That was, until Tsunayoshi came. He somehow managed to humanize them to an extent, and they became relatively tame for the last three years. Bermuda, like his father, could only imagine how they’d react to Tsunayoshi’s absence. 

Nonetheless, he’d have to meet the man and ask him the questions that swirled in a frustrating torrent in his mind. 

“I agree, Father. That is why I do not understand why you would let him go so easily.” 

Bermuda could sense his father smile on the other line. “I had asked him why and could only agree with his decision. Vendicare is not the only place for him, Bermuda. There are others he is fated to help. I hope you can understand, Bermuda.” 

Bermuda didn’t realize he was shaking until he saw his other hand gripping his sheets, the knuckles white and trembling. He exhaled quietly and counted to twenty in his head, something Tsunayoshi had taught him. It helped, but Bermuda couldn’t stop shaking. 

“I understand, Father. You don’t have to worry about me. I will meet him as soon as I’m able to.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I’m sure.” Bermuda glanced at his watch, silently thankful that it was already fifteen minutes past three. “It is almost time to go, Father.” 

Jager sighed, sounding more human than Bermuda would’ve liked. “Yes. Do let me know when you speak to Tsunayoshi and do not hesitate to reach out to me if you need anything. I will call you again next week.” 

“Of course.” 

“Have a wonderful weekend. And please, do make some friends.” 

“I can take care of myself, Father.” 

Jager chuckled. “Until next time then, Bermuda. Take care.” 

“You too, Father.” 

After Jager hung up, Bermuda tossed his phone to the side and released a deep sigh. He fell back onto his bed and for once, didn’t get too worked up about messing his clothes or hair. Too many thoughts ran through his head and it was giving him an unpleasant headache. 

That had been the first time he lied to his father and he hoped it would be the last.

* * *

Despite what others thought, Bermuda was a heavy sleeper. 

It would take more than six alarms to wake him up and even then, he wouldn’t be fully awake. After snoozing his eleventh alarm and throwing his phone against the wall, Bermuda groaned, snuggling deeper under his covers. When his eyes finally closed and he slowly returned to slumber’s sweet embrace, the alarm rang again. 

Grumbling, Bermuda forced himself out of bed and walked towards his ringing phone. It was unbroken, which he was grudgingly grateful for. Too many things got destroyed in his home whenever his temper got the best of him and he’d rather not let his father waste more money than necessary. 

Bermuda rubbed his eyes, nearly stumbling into the bathroom. He scowled when he saw his tousled hair and immediately straightened it out as much as he could before turning on the shower.

As soon as the hot water touched his skin, he immediately relaxed. He stood there for a few minutes, cursing at many things at once. Standing in the shower with warm water beating his back was one of the most relaxing things life had to offer. Hot steam curled in the air, and he watched it lazily as it disappeared into faint wisps. He finally managed to work his way in washing his hair with some shampoo and conditioner. 

Why was it always hard entering the shower but never leaving it? Bermuda considered it as one of life’s leading mysteries. 

Sighing quietly, he eventually turned off the shower and dried himself with a towel. He later shifted through his wardrobe before choosing a white collared shirt, a black sweater vest, and some slacks. He strapped two small metal contraptions around his biceps, which held his chains, that Jack had given him. The cool weights against his skin were reassuring, comfortable. 

When Bermuda checked the time, he frowned when he realized it was almost eleven. Grabbing his bag, he left the comfort of his room for the kitchen where he could brew some tea. Fon was nowhere to be seen, which wasn’t unusual since he’d usually leave early morning and return in the late evening on the weekends.

While Bermuda boiled some hot water in his kettle, a soft knock came from the door. He glanced up from his phone, his thumb lingering on Tsunayoshi’s number—did he change his number, too? He hoped not—and raised a brow. 

Then, there was a moment of silence. Bermuda thought the person finally left until another knock came sounded through the air. He sighed before walking to the entrance. He looked through the peephole to see a short teen in an overly-large purple hoodie. 

A bit wary, Bermuda opened the door just enough so he could get a better view of the visitor. The skinny teen only reached his chest. Still, Bermuda slightly nodded at him out of politeness. He recognized the boy—Viper Delacroix, a son to a pair of intelligence officers in France, who preferred to be called Mammon and in good reason. He could only be spoken to with money, which Bermuda found repulsive. 

“Hello,” he said. “Are you looking for Fon?” 

“No.” The other teen’s voice was strangely androgynous, but spoken with quiet confidence. “You’re Bermuda von Veckenschtein, correct?” 

Bermuda didn’t open the door any wider. “Yes. And you are Viper.”

“Mammon,” the boy corrected immediately. “Call me Mammon.” 

“Why are you looking for me?” 

“I just wanted to inquire about your knowledge on Tsunayoshi Sawada.” 

“I have no knowledge about this person.” 

Viper sighed. “Mou, you’re Bermuda von Veckenschtein, son to Vendicare’s warden, Jager von Veckenschtein and his wife, Charlotte. It’s hard to believe that you wouldn’t be privy to any knowledge about Tsunayoshi Sawada when you were raised in Vendicare alongside your brothers.”

Bermuda slightly narrowed his eyes. “I see you have done your research.” 

“Yes, I have.” 

“Still, I suggest you stop this useless digging. Nothing good will come out of it.” 

“If there’s nothing you can tell me, then there’s no need for me to be here.” 

“Why did you seek me out then?” 

“I’m not an idiot, Veckenschtein. I came here knowing you wouldn’t tell me anything. I already know enough about you two for my purposes. This is nothing but a courtesy visit.” 

Bermuda clenched his jaw. “There is nothing _courteous_ about your visit, Delacroix.” 

He noted how Viper frowned at his surname, but dismissed it in favor of trying to find some semblance of reason behind the other’s intentions. Why was he inquiring about Tsunayoshi? On one hand, Bermuda couldn’t help but mentally shake his head in exasperation since the man usually drew trouble to himself like bees to honey; but on the other hand, he was very concerned about this sudden interest. 

Bermuda may not be involved with many school functions or socialized with his peers, but he wasn’t stupid. He observed others from the shadows, picking up on their quirks, habits, and traits merely out of boredom. Viper was just as submerged in the shadows as he was, also silently viewing those around him. Under different circumstances, they could have been acquaintances, but Viper was currently an enemy. 

“May I inquire who asked you for this information?” Bermuda said. 

“I’m not privy in disclosing my client.”

Viper turned away then, making Bermuda’s brow twitch. He immediately thrust out his arm, shooting out a chain to wrap around Viper’s neck, but the boy must have expected it since he managed to dodge in time. The jagged ends of Bermuda’s chain struck the far wall instead, creating large cracks around it.

Bermuda tilted his head. “Oh? You are as your name suggests.” 

Viper’s hands still remained in his hoodie’s pocket, but his shoulders were tense. “And you live up to that temper of yours. I’m not interested in fighting you.” 

“Surely you would tell me who your client is if I pay you. Name your price, Delacroix.”

Viper appeared to mull it over for a few seconds, which was baffling in itself since he’d never hesitate to take money of any kind, but it seemed he had a little bit more integrity than Bermuda thought. 

“I’m obligated to respect my client’s privacy.” 

Bermuda tugged his chain from the wall, sending chunks flying, and quickly retracted it into the contraption under his sleeve. He slightly shifted his stance. 

“Then I’ll have to force it out of you.” 

He launched another chain, then another towards Viper’s leg. Viper flipped backwards, dodging both, before sprinting down the hallway. A small sense of thrill thrummed in Bermuda’s veins as he quickly followed, straining his ears to hear anything amiss. 

His chains slid back under his sleeves when he faced an empty hallway. His lips twitched into a slight smirk. 

Let the chase begin.

* * *

The students had all fled as soon as they caught sight of Bermuda storming through the hallways. He didn’t pay them any mind, perusing every nook and cranny in the building, his eyes sharp and unrelenting in finding the little snake. 

It didn’t take long for Bermuda to find Viper, though he did give the other some credit for being incredibly elusive. He was not too far from Tempestas, lurking quietly behind Foresta, the dormitory for the teaching staff. As soon as he caught sight of a blur of purple, Bermuda was off. He released a chain, which embedded straight into the wall when Viper managed to duck and roll away in time. 

Ignoring the students’ shrieks, Bermuda sprinted forward to knee Viper’s stomach. Viper evaded it before raising a switchblade to block another chain. Bermuda tugged it to try winding it around Viper’s neck. 

“You are quite slippery, Delacroix,” Bermuda said, pushing more against Viper’s blade. “I commend you for that.”

Viper’s arm trembled, but he didn’t move away. “I said that I wasn’t interested in fighting.” 

Bermuda smiled slightly, showing no teeth. “If you tell me who your client is, then I will walk away.” 

“I won’t repeat myself.” 

“Suit yourself then.” 

Bermuda immediately pushed Viper away, who followed the motion to flip backwards. Knowing that’d happen, Bermuda sent out another chain to wrap around the other boy’s ankle just as Viper entered mid-air. As soon as it wound around its target, Bermuda heaved him towards himself.

Viper grunted when he met the ground but couldn’t move when Bermuda placed his foot on his chest. 

“The adult human body has 206 bones, Delacroix,” he said, jerking his other chain out of the wall. Some debris brushed the side of his body. “I presume you would like to keep all of them intact.” 

Viper clicked his tongue. “You’re being foolish.” 

“Then perhaps you haven’t done your research very well.” Bermuda placed more pressure against Viper’s sternum with the heel of his shoe, taking small pleasure in the wince on the boy’s face. “I won’t say it again, Delacroix. _Who_ is your client?” 

“I won’t say.” 

Bermuda scowled. “Name your price and this will be done and over with quickly.” 

“No.” 

Viper hissed when Bermuda snapped one of his ribs with his heel. “You have 205 bones left untouched, Delacroix. Maybe you’d like to save them by telling me your client just as a friendly reminder.” 

“Should I make a note that you’re also insufferably deaf, Veckenschtein?” Viper said, his voice slightly strained. 

“Do as you wish. It is of no concern to me.” 

“Tsunayoshi must be very precious to you.” 

The haphazard comment caught Bermuda slightly off guard. He grunted when Viper suddenly wound the chain around his own leg and tugged him down. Bermuda turned his body to the side when Viper tried to kick him, but ended up losing his balance when Viper swiped his legs with his un-chained leg and flipped into a small crouch. 

Bermuda quickly tackled Viper to the ground before he could run away and purposely placed all of his weight on the other’s broken rib. He nearly smirked when Viper hissed. Grabbing his other chain, Bermuda quickly wrapped it around Viper’s frail neck and firmly held him down. 

“I will warn you, Delacroix,” he said lowly. “You are trekking on very murky territory. I suggest you and your client divert your attention elsewhere.” He tightened the chain around Viper’s neck, smiling when a choked gasp escaped the other’s lips.  “Your client—who is it?” 

Before Bermuda could do anything more, something cold and hard unexpectedly looped around his wrists and neck, hauling him backwards. He fell to the ground, growling, and struggled against the unexpected bindings with no success. Viper joined him soon after with a grunt and only his hands bound. 

“Bermuda von Veckenschtein,” a female voice said, “Viper Delacroix, you’re both disturbing the peace on the premises.” 

Two women with short pink hair and domino masks stood above them—they were the Cervello, female guards who patrolled and maintained the academy’s security. 

“Please remove your chains from Mr. Delacroix, Mr. Veckenschtein,” the other Cervello woman said in an equally placid tone.

Bermuda glared at her, but she remained unfazed. Clicking his tongue, he released his chains from Viper’s neck and ankle. He wasn’t even satisfied when he saw a glimpse of bruising red marks around the boy’s pale skin. 

“We will escort you to Headmaster Vongola. Any resistance will be met with appropriate levels of discipline. We advise that you comply so no drastic measures will be taken.” 

Bermuda couldn’t do anything else but comply. He stood up with as much dignity as he could muster and silently followed the women to Cielo, glowering at any student who watched the humiliating display. Viper silently trailed beside him and Bermuda made a mental note to catch him later again— _alone_.

* * *

Cielo was much larger than the other dormitories; the light orange building had a fancy, brown plaque with its name written in elegant inscription and had four floors. The inside was quite impressive but Bermuda didn’t spare much of a glance at the opulent furniture. He tugged his thick, steely cuffs but they were impenetrable. The metallic cuff around his neck wasn’t making him feel any better. 

One of the Cervello women kept a firm grip on his arm while the other held onto Viper. Bermuda clenched his jaw once they reached a pair of tall oak doors. When his Cervello guard opened them, the scent of pastries and coffee wafted in the air, making him wrinkle his nose. He despised them both. 

A familiar laugh made him freeze. Bermuda widened his eyes when he saw the two men in front of him. They were seated at a tea table on two golden chairs with intricate designs on the white cushions. One of them was Timoteo Vongola, the headmaster, the other…was Tsunayoshi.

Timoteo noticed them first and raised a brow. “Ambra, is something wrong?”

Tsunayoshi turned to look at the newcomers before blinking. “Bermuda?” 

Bermuda just looked away from the man’s confused yet worried eyes. Why was Tsunayoshi here? The man had always got along well with people, but he seemed close with the headmaster. 

“Mr. Veckenschtein and Mr. Delacroix were fighting on the premises,” Ambra said. Bermuda realized that she was the woman who held his arm. “We only responded appropriately to prevent them from incurring more damage to the school.” 

Timoteo sighed. “Alright.” He glanced at Viper. “Perhaps Mr. Delacroix and I could talk at a later time. Please take him to the medical infirmary, Concetta, and keep a close eye on him. I’ll send word for the both of you later.” 

Concetta, who held onto Viper, bowed slightly. “Of course, Headmaster.” 

After they both left, Timoteo sighed again. Bermuda didn’t look up once; he could feel Tsunayoshi’s gaze still focused on him and it made him feel much worse than he already was. 

“You can let him go, Ambra,” Timoteo said wearily. “Thank you.” 

When the woman released the contraptions from Bermuda’s neck and wrists, he flexed his hands to get rid of the numbness. He scowled at Ambra, which was met with an indifferent gaze, before she left the room. The door clicked behind him, the only sound in the tense silence. 

“Should I leave, Timoteo-san?” Tsunayoshi said, grabbing his satchel. “I—” 

Bermuda hoped he did until Timoteo shook his head and waved for him to sit back down. “I think it’s best if you stay, Tsunayoshi-kun.”

Tsunayoshi looked dubious but complied nonetheless. Bermuda shifted a bit to glance around the large room instead of looking at him. It was a nice lounge with a little too much sunlight, but he was in no position to complain. There were a few bookshelves filled with several titles; some he recognized, some he didn’t. A small pantry was nearby the tall windows and there was a brewing machine on the counter. 

“I’m rather surprised that you’re involved in some sort of trouble, Mr. Veckenschtein,” Timoteo said, directing Bermuda’s attention to him. “And with Mr. Delcroix nonetheless. Is there something I should be concerned with?”

“No,” Bermuda said curtly. 

Timoteo pursed his lips. “Are you sure?”

“Timoteo-san,” Tsunayoshi said, making Bermuda tense, “Bermuda isn’t fond of being questioned that way.” He chuckled gently. “Or being questioned at all. He must’ve had some reason to lash out at the other boy. Although”—he frowned, making Bermuda feel less than dirt—“it’s not right to resort to violence, Bermuda.” 

Bermuda curled his hands into fists, and he could feel them trembling by his sides. Tsunayoshi sighed. It was a soft exhale of breath, but it hit Bermuda’s heart like a sack of bricks. He wasn’t sure if he could really handle the growing pressure accumulating in his mind. A torrent of emotions swirled in his head all at once and he had difficulty shifting through them. 

For a second, he forgot how to breathe. 

Warmth suddenly enveloped his hands and it took a moment for Bermuda to realize that Tsunayoshi stood in front of him. The man was a bit shorter than he was but still maintained a large presence. 

“Bermuda, count to ten with me,” Tsunayoshi whispered. “Take deep breaths. One.” 

Bermuda released a shaky breath but didn’t pull away from Tsuna’s warm hands. For such slender fingers, they were remarkably strong. “One…” 

“Two.” 

“Two…” 

“Three. You’re doing great.” 

Bermuda almost gulped if he wasn’t in front of Tsunayoshi or Timoteo. “Three…” 

“There, see? You’re doing fine. Do you want to keep going?” 

Bermuda looked down at the tan-carpeted floors, noting that Tsunayoshi wore a pair of dark brown loafers. His lips twitched. They were the ones that Bermuda gave him on his birthday last year. The man always preferred casual wear. 

“I’m fine,” Bermuda said, relieved that his voice was steady now. “Thank you.” 

Tsunayoshi smiled. “Of course.” He turned to face Timoteo, who watched the quiet interaction curiously. “I apologize, Timoteo-san, but I’ll have to ask to leave a bit earlier than expected. Is that alright with you?” 

Timoteo waved his hand dismissively. “That’s fine. Don’t make me keep you from enjoying your weekend. I’m glad you came on such short notice.” 

“Thank you. Have a wonderful day.” 

“You too, Tsunayoshi-kun.” 

Grabbing his satchel and thin coat, Tsunayoshi bowed towards the headmaster. He then placed a hand on Bermuda’s shoulder and led him out the room. They walked down the empty hallways in silence, their footsteps breaking through the air in an irregular rhythm. It irked Bermuda for some reason that their steps weren’t in sync, but he didn’t dwell on it for too long when they reached the exit. 

“It’s a bit chilly,” Tsunayoshi suddenly said. “Here.”

 

Bermuda blinked when Tsunayoshi draped his coat over his shoulders. He immediately pushed it away. “I can’t take that, Tsunayoshi. I’m not cold.” 

Tsunayoshi just laughed, the sound almost inhumanly lyrical, and kept the coat wrapped around Bermuda’s shoulders. “Your shirt isn’t enough. Besides, I’m wearing a sweater. It’s thick enough. Also, you get cold easily, don’t you? Take it.” 

Bermuda couldn’t do anything but accept the light brown jacket. He _was_ feeling cold, which he hadn’t realized until Tsunayoshi gave him his coat. Tugging it closer, Bermuda just stared at the ground. A few lingering students cast curious glances over their way, but quickly looked away when Bermuda glowered at them.

“Do you want to tell me what happened, Bermuda?” Tsunayoshi said. “I admit, you have a temper, but you don’t lash out without a reason—well, most of the time.” 

Bermuda licked his chapped lips, gazing straight ahead. “No.”

Tsunayoshi chuckled. “You might want to elaborate. No to telling me what happened or no that you had no reason?” 

It took a few minutes for Bermuda to get the words out. “I don’t want to say what happened. It doesn’t matter.” 

He winced at how strained his voice sounded. He could only guess to what Tsunayoshi was thinking. The man was kind—perhaps too kind—but he was unnervingly perceptive. It was hard to believe how such a soft-looking man could look right through you with no qualms. 

“That’s alright,” Tsunayoshi said. “If there’s anything you’d like to say to me, I’m here for you, Bermuda. You know that, right?” 

Bermuda paused in his step. His hands clenched tightly on the warm fabric of Tsunayoshi’s coat. The words tumbled from his lips ungracefully. “Why did you leave Vendicare?” 

There was a bout of silence that made Bermuda’s nerves tingle. He couldn’t meet Tsunayoshi’s eyes, opting to look at the his dark orange sweater instead.

“Bermuda.” Tsunayoshi’s voice was still gentle, kind. Bermuda wanted to run. He didn’t deserve such sweet humanity. He had lost control—even though he found good reason to do so; he was still hunting down the snake later—and was now facing judgement. Only his pride and dignity kept him rooted to his spot. “My face is up here, you know.” 

Not even the teasing edge in Tsunayoshi’s voice quelled the creeping fear in Bermuda’s chest. He felt so cold. Still, he forced himself to look up and meet warm brown eyes. He didn’t deserve the Angel’s compassion. 

“I left for my own reasons,” Tsunayoshi said. 

“Why?” 

Tsunayoshi smiled then, nearly making Bermuda’s breath hitch. How could such an exquisite creature exist in this ugly world? “There are other things I wanted to do. I didn’t belong in Vendicare.” Tsunayoshi kept his gaze steady on Bermuda’s face. “It was a good place for me to start at, but I couldn’t see myself staying there long.” 

“I don’t understand. Didn’t we treat you well?” Bermuda pursed his lips. “Did Jack or Gianmaria do something to make you uncomfortable? I can speak to them.” 

Tsunayoshi laughed. “Oh no. I mean, yes, you all treated me well. You were like family to me, _including_ Jack and Gianmaria. I hope I could repay all of your generosity one day.” 

“We should be the ones to repay you, Tsunayoshi. You helped us more than you realized.”

Tsunayoshi smiled. “That’s very kind of you, but there’s no need to do that. I was only doing my job.”

Bermuda furrowed his brows. “I still don’t understand. That doesn’t explain why you left. You said we were like family to you. Weren’t we enough?” 

_Wasn’t I enough for you to stay?_ went unasked, but Tsunayoshi looked at him with such keen understanding that Bermuda thought he said the question out loud by accident. 

“Yes, you’re all like family to me, and I’ll continue cherishing every one of you, including you, Bermuda, so don’t worry.” Tsunayoshi looked out into the large piazza nearby, and Bermuda followed his gaze to see some students kicking a soccer ball around. “I left Vendicare because I didn’t belong there anymore. I wanted to do something else for a change.” The brunet smiled almost sadly. “It’s not because of you or Jager or your brothers. It’s not because of the patients either. I guess you could say I took the coward’s way out.” 

Bermuda could only stare at Tsunayoshi, not making any sense of the words he was saying. Coward? Tsunayoshi a coward? That was a concept so foreign to Bermuda that it never registered in his head. 

“You are not a coward, Tsunayoshi.” 

Tsunayoshi smiled then, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Bermuda never like that smile. It only meant that Tsunayoshi was thinking terribly low of himself. 

“Thank you, Bermuda, but I am. I couldn’t handle Vendicare anymore. It became very hard for me and I decided to leave.” Tsunayoshi chuckled. “I’m just glad Hana managed to help me get this job on such short notice. I never thought I’d get to work in a place like this. It’s a beautiful school.” 

“I still don’t understand,” Bermuda said. “Vendicare is not a nice place, but we could renovate some spaces to your liking.” 

Tsunayoshi shook his head. “That’s not what I meant, Bermuda. Vendicare doesn’t need to change its interior. I appreciate the sentiment though. That’s very kind of you.” He glanced at his watch. “Ah, I’m sorry, but I have a meeting with the other counselors. You live in Tempestas, right? That’s where all the high school freshmen live, if I remember correctly. I can walk you there. It’s not too far.” 

Bermuda couldn’t do anything but follow Tsunayoshi. He tried making sense of what he said. It didn’t work. Tsunayoshi had enjoyed working in Vendicare—well, enjoyed in the sense that he did his job very eagerly compared to the other staff members. He never complained once about the inmates. He never said anything about the extensive security protocols he had to go through every day. He never even talked badly about anyone who worked there or gossiped about the inmates behind their backs. 

The teen was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t realize that they arrived at Tempestas until he bumped into Tsunayoshi. He immediately stepped away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, a bit flustered. “I didn’t mean to bump into you. I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Tsunayoshi waved him off with a smile. “It’s fine. You know, it’s better to let those thoughts out once in a while before they build up inside your head. They can cause a huge headache later.” He glanced up at the maroon-colored building, which had its name elegantly inscribed on a golden plaque, before facing Bermuda. “You can contact me anytime you want. I didn’t change my number. If you’d like, I’m free on Mondays after two so you can come to my office and we can talk there. It’s in the East Wing of the main building. I’d like to see you again.” 

Bermuda stayed quiet for a moment before nodding his head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” 

Tsunayoshi smiled brightly. “Of course! I’m glad I got to see you, Bermuda, even though it’s not under the best circumstances. You should visit the other boy soon to see how he’s doing.” He chuckled when Bermuda scowled. “Or not. Take care, Bermuda. I hope to see you again.” 

“Tsunayoshi.” 

The man paused in his step, tilting his head. “Yes?”

Bermuda struggled to phrase what he wanted to say. He opened his mouth then closed it again, mentally kicking himself for lacking any composure again. How hard was it to say that he would be there for Tsunayoshi, too? 

“Be…careful,” he finally said. “The cre— _students_ aren’t normal here.” 

Tsunayoshi smiled reassuringly, slightly easing the tension in Bermuda’s shoulders. “I’m very well aware of that. Thank you. You stay safe, too. I know you can take care of yourself, but it isn’t shameful to ask for help. I have to get going now. Have a wonderful weekend. I hope to see you again!”

Waving, Tsunayoshi jogged down the smooth walkway before disappearing around the corner of Sereno, the dormitory for the high school juniors. Bermuda watched Tsunayoshi leave quietly before realizing that the man forgot his coat. A chilly breeze swept through the air. 

He didn’t feel cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's Bermuda! :^D


	3. Chapter 3

" _In the social jungle of human existence, there is no feeling of being alive without a sense of identity."_ – Erik Erikson

* * *

There were only 25 students in each grade and 50 staff members, including the administrators, counselors, teachers, and medical professionals in the school infirmary. There were even less students in the middle school branch—15 in each grade. This only went to show how carefully selective Vongola Academy was.

Everyone knew everyone, but only on the surface. Rumors spread quickly and constantly throughout the school, and the lack of privacy was rather irritating; however, Mammon had always been good at making his presence minimal, to the point where his teachers were unaware he was existent unless they called his name. Now, they didn't even bother and just marked him down on the basis of his turned-in assignments and tests.

Mammon knew before he received his letter that he was accepted to Vongola Academy, and he only went to leave Lamia behind.

She had been hysterical when he packed his suitcase and left their small apartment without another glance. Crying and clawing at his jeans with renewed fervor, Lamia was a disgusting sight and Mammon took no pity on her. If she had shown some semblance of life like that before, she wouldn't have turned out the way she did. Her long hair was greasy and unkempt— _their shower must be bugged by the Man_ —and she had worn the same clothes for four months— _their laundry would blow up if they started it_.

It didn't.

And just like that, Lamia was easily erased from his life. It had been so swift, so  _easy_ , that Mammon wanted to laugh, but couldn't. He just took less money from his clients instead, ignoring their annoying comments about how generous he was that day.

Everyone in school knew who he was but never approached him unless they were desperate. It wasn't like they couldn't pay for his services; all of them had more than enough money. They just didn't want to mess with someone like him. The one who had all the information had the upper-hand anyways.

So, he was a little intrigued when Reborn of all people asked him for his services. It wasn't in his place to ask why or what it was for. All he did was get paid and give them what they wanted. He was fine with only being an observer. There was no need for him to get involved in whatever schemes his clients were planning against others or even each other. He didn't meddle and he didn't care.

Reborn was a bit of an anomaly. As the son to one of the most successful business tycoons in the electronics industries, Renato Sinclair had always been in the spotlight, especially more so after his mother's death. She did not die from unfortunate circumstances—though Mammon supposed it was rather unfortunate—but from a cleverly-disguised murder. Her husband had sent a hitman after her when he discovered her affair with one of his closest business partners. Reborn had been in the car with her, which had elicited sympathy easily from the public and overshadowed any doubts about the accident.

Mammon had no personal feelings against or about Reborn. However, he did find it annoying that the other teen snooped in his room prior to the start of the semester. He didn't even spare any time admiring the high-tech bugs; he just found all ten of them, crushed them, and dumped them in the trash.

After texting Reborn the payment details, Mammon turned to his three monitors and pulled up whatever information that was publically available on Tsunayoshi Sawada. The man's employee photo popped up on his left screen before several documents pulled up on the other two. Lamia's clearances were the only thing useful he ever received from her. Her agency still had no clue she was incapacitated and that Mammon communicated to them in her place. They were supposedly sympathetic about her husband's loss, but that was years ago and Mammon couldn't help but think how utterly stupid they were.

Tsunayoshi was a young, harmless-looking man with ridiculously fluffy brown hair and kind brown eyes. He looked like a saint. Mammon clicked on his birth certificate. Born on October 14, 1994, in Namimori, Japan to Sawada Iemitsu and Nana. Chewing on his straw, he typed in the parents' names and was greeted with obituaries and some Japanese newspaper articles on a burned down hospital. Japanese easily translated to French in his head, which he had learned a year ago to deal with some yakuza clients.

Their deaths were an unfortunate accident. Namimori Hospital had burned down when Tsunayoshi was visiting his father with his mother. A patient with dementia had been arrested later for arson. Thirty-four people were killed, including Tsunayoshi's parents. He was only six-years-old. Mammon quirked a brow when he saw Iemitsu's bank account. A simple construction worker shouldn't be making that much money, and it went on for three months since April 2000 before stopping altogether after the Sawadas' death.

He traced the money wire to another account. It was still active but the name and routing number was something he recognized: Franco Rossi. It was an alias of the mafia don of the Bertesca Famiglia, Gelaro. Mammon hummed to himself. He failed to see the connection here, unless Iemitsu had been in the mafia prior to his hospitalization. Regardless, he'd have to fill in the gaps.

Opening the man's medical records, Mammon skimmed through the jargon and X-rays while pulling up surveillance camera footage from both Namimori and Palermo. What were the chances that they'd actually meet on the streets? He supposed it was possible. Ah, Iemitsu was paralyzed from the waist down.

Mammon filed all the information away neatly in a separate folder. Something else then caught his eye. Psychiatrist and therapist in Vendicare? He placed his now empty strawberry milk carton to the side. This was an interesting development. It took him a while to get into the Vendicare computer systems, but Mammon was just as relentless if not persistent in attaining information. Finding Tsunayoshi's name, he browsed through the man's records and patients list. One name stuck out to him: Belphegor Luca.

What were the odds? Sometimes Mammon forgot how small the world could be. He glanced at the calendar. The last time the other had reached out to him was two days ago and it would take a while for the Vendicare guards to track him down. Deeming it safe, Mammoon grabbed one of his work phones and dialed a number. The line rang a few times before the person picked up.

"Mammon," a giggly voice said. "What a pleasure."

"Bel." Mammon pulled up a blank document to jot down notes. "Am I bothering you?"

The other man just laughed that peculiar laugh of his. Mammon could imagine him brandishing one of his knives wherever he was now, more out of habit rather than just for show. It wasn't a secret that most Vendicare patients try to escape the mental institution, but it was mostly kept under the radar to not instigate public panic. Very few were ever successful, and Bel happened to be one of them. This was his third time.

"Not when it comes to Mammon," Bel said flippantly. "Mammon is a favorite peasant of the prince."

"I'll cut to the chase then. Do you know a Tsunayoshi Sawada? He was one of the psychiatrists in Vendicare two years ago and listed as your therapist."

A deathly hush fell over the line, and the young teen checked the timer on his phone to make sure it was running. Bel hadn't hung up, but his silence was rather odd.

"Bel?"

The other man's tone was still bright, but there was an underlying hint of wariness that made Mammon skeptical. "The prince remembers everyone from Vendicare."

"You're not answering my question."

"Why is Mammon asking?"

"I just want to know."

"Who is this for?"

Mammon became even more dubious at the bout of protectiveness Bel exhibited. It wasn't hostile, but the other man rarely showed much emotion or care for anything other than slicing up the human anatomy. He was an unpredictable individual whose violent episodes seldom showed themselves until it was too late. Though they were on relatively neutral terms, even Mammon knew that it was dangerous to provoke Bel, lest he wanted to be mutilated or shredded into ribbons of flesh and bone.

"For me," Mammon said. "I just wanted to know some things because he's in my school."

Bel giggled. "Oh, little Mammon is attending school now? The prince never liked school. It's just another cage to brainwash little peasants."

"Can you tell me anything about him?"

"What school does Mammon go to?"

Mammon suppressed a sigh. He wasn't going to get anything from this, but Bel's reaction was already enough. There was some history behind him and Tsunayoshi and their relationship was, he thought, at least on amicable terms, which was unexpected since there was no therapist or anyone, including Mammon sometimes, who could handle Bel's outlandish, unpredictable personality (or any of the Vendicare patients).

Still, he just needed a little push to confirm what he was theorizing.

"The person who's asking for this intel has the intention to possibly harm Tsunayoshi."

It was a stretch on Reborn's end, but Mammon didn't care. He wouldn't shy away from lying to get the information he wanted—it was how the business worked. Ironic since the field required digging for the truth and a string of lies could lead you to it.

To his surprise, Bel just laughed. It was full-blown out laughter that soon escalated into high-pitched giggles and snorts. Mammon pursed his lips. "What's so funny?" he said.

Bel struggled to catch his breath, but continued to laugh nonetheless. Mammon could hear him slamming a table with his fist; the dull thumping in the background made his brow twitch.

"Bel."

The other man slowly sobered up though he still giggled here and there. "Oh, Mammon, the prince is no idiot." A distant whistle sounded in the background. "Ah, the prince has to go. Have fun in school, little viper. It's bound to be more entertaining when the cute peasant is around."

Bel hung up before Mammon could say another word. The teen stared at his phone for a solid minute while his mind drew blanks. Clicking his tongue, he tossed it behind him.

What a waste of time.

* * *

It was routine for Mammon to wake up at 6 every morning, no matter how many hours he slept the night before. He perused the news on open source websites bookmarked on his browser to catch up on anything he missed while he slept. After an hour or so, he left his bed and headed for the bathroom.

Since it was Saturday, he was free to figure out Tsunayoshi's schedule and his daily habits. He could take the direct approach, but that was just too abrupt and unnecessary. Mammon knew where the man lived; he'd simply have to tail him when he found him. Slipping on a purple hoodie and some jeans, he grabbed two phones and slipped out of his room.

The scent of bitter coffee assaulted his nose. Reborn was sitting at the dining table with a large cup in his hand and his phone in the other. Mammon walked past him, only pausing when the other spoke, "How long will it take?"

"Two days."

"I suppose that's not bad."

Mammon's brow slightly twitched. "When do you want it?"

Reborn pretended to hum in thought. "Preferably tomorrow night, but I can't overwhelm you now, can I? I'm sure you're busy with other things."

Mammon resisted the urge to sigh and turn around. He kept his hand on the door handle, taking comfort in the cool metal.

"Then you will get it tomorrow night."

He could sense the other smirk even when they weren't facing each other.

"Perfect. I hope I get my money's worth."

It was then that Mammon realized how easily he fell into Reborn's little trap.

* * *

The teen's mood worsened when he walked around campus. It was as if his steps had suddenly lost purpose until he checked the time and cursed under his breath. He had wasted half an hour. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Mammon walked towards another dorm building.

There were five separate dorms on campus, including the ones for teachers and staff. Since Vongola Academy was well isolated from society (and in good reason—Mammon shuddered at the thought of how much money went into repair bills for the building), it took advantage of the land it was built on to essentially make a small town of its own. The dorms looked more like modest suites with expensive furnishing; at least, the headmaster had taste.

Mammon slipped quietly into the building and entered the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor. Soft bossa nova filtered through the speakers, which did nothing to placate his mood. He walked out as soon as the doors opened and turned the first corner. Finally, he found the room he was looking for: 322.

He knocked on the door. No response. Mammon pressed his ear against the wooden door. He could hear the soft hiss of water boiling in a tea kettle. Either Fon hadn't left yet for his early morning walks or Bermuda was there and ignoring him. Still, no one came to the door. Mammon knocked again. Finally, he heard the shuffling of footsteps drawing closer. A small clink indicated that the other person was looking through the peephole.

Soon the door opened just enough for Mammon to see the other teen. Bermuda was a tall, fit boy with black hair and pale skin. He looked perpetually tired, which was a clever ruse to not draw much attention to himself. Plus, he was a von Veckenschtein. It was almost a necessity to avoid the family.

"Hello," Bermuda said, his brows furrowed. "Are you looking for Fon?"

"No," Mammon said. "You're Bermuda von Veckenschtein, correct?"

Though Bermuda seemed calm, Mammon could already sense that he was on a short fuse.

"Yes. And you are Viper."

"Mammon. Call me Mammon."

Bermuda didn't open the door any wider. "Why are you looking for me?"

"I just wanted to simply inquire about your knowledge on Tsunayoshi Sawada."

The reaction was almost instantaneous. Bermuda's lips set into a firm line. "I have no knowledge about this person."

Mammon sighed under his breath. A little more push was what he needed. "You are Bermuda von Veckenschtein, son to Vendicare's warden, Jaeger von Veckenschtein and his wife, Charlotte von Veckenschtein. It is hard to believe that you wouldn't be privy to any knowledge about Tsunayoshi Sawada when you were raised in Vendicare alongside your brothers."

Bermuda slightly narrowed his eyes. "I see you have done your research."

"Yes, I have."

Bermuda straightened himself and it was slightly surprising that he was able to reign in his temper this far. Was Sawada a factor in that? "Still, I suggest that you stop this useless digging. Nothing good will come out of it."

It was as much a threat as it was a promise. "If there is nothing you can tell me," Mammon said, "then there is no need for me to be here."

Confusion flashed in Bermuda's light gray eyes. "Why did you seek me out then?"

Mammon shifted a little to his left. "I am not an idiot, Veckenschtein. I came here knowing you wouldn't tell me anything. I already know enough about you two for my purposes. This is nothing but a courtesy visit."

Bermuda clenched his jaw. Mammon brushed a hand against his waist where his knives were hidden underneath his baggy hoodie. "There is nothing  _courteous_  about your visit, Delacroix."

Mammon frowned when he spoke his surname. Viper or Delacroix were nothing to him anymore. His mind suddenly flashed to cold water filling his lungs as Lamia dunked his head in the bathtub. "Delacroix's don't give  _in_!" she said, digging her sharp nails into his scalp. "Stop crying, you insolent boy, or the Man will swallow you whole!"

Mentally shaking his head to get rid of the memory, Mammon slipped his hands into his pockets. They felt hot, his fingers and nerves burning from phantom sensations of the stove fire licking his palm. He clenched his hands into fists to keep them from shaking; his nails dug into his skin, providing him a brief respite from the pain. He barely caught Bermuda's question in time.

"—ed you for this information?" Bermuda said.

Mammon quickly straightened himself. "I am not privy in disclosing my client."

He turned away then when a faint whistling sound came from behind. Instinct taking over, he leapt to the side just as a long chain shot past him where his neck was. He followed it to the far wall, noting its jagged ends and the little pricks on each metal link.

Bermuda tilted his head. "Oh? You are as your name suggests, I see."

Mammon's hands loosened in his pockets, his shoulders tense. He would've been minced meat if he hadn't dodged in time. "And you live up to that temper of yours. I'm not interested in fighting you, Veckenschtein."

" _Never stop fighting!"_  Lamia's voice screeched in his head.  _"The Man will punish you with death!"_

"Surely you would tell me who your client is if I pay you," Bermuda said. "Name your price, Delacroix."

If Bermuda paid him to our Reborn, Mammon wouldn't really mind. It wasn't as if Bermuda didn't have money and he could let the two fight tooth and nail if they wanted to. However, Bermuda already ticked him off so he wasn't in the mood to plunder. "I am obligated to respect my client's privacy," Mammon said instead.

Bermuda tugged his chain from the wall, making Mammon shift. He followed it back to the other boy's sleeve. He must have some sort of contraption underneath it. Bermuda's stance slightly changed. The muscles in Mammon's legs tightened.

"Then perhaps I'll have to force it out of you."

Another chain struck out of Bermuda's sleeve but Mammon was ready. He flipped backwards twice to dodge another and sprinted down the hallway as soon as his feet touched the ground. Opening a window, he snuck out and leapt onto a window ledge below before tumbling on a patch of grass and some dirt. Brushing off some stray petals from his sleeves, Mammon stood up and ran for his life so to speak.

* * *

Mammon rarely ever came out unscathed whenever he went out to unearth information for his clients. Fieldwork wasn't his forte but it was necessary. Now, lying in a medical bed, he vaguely wondered if this was really worth it. One of the nurses had confiscated his hoodie until he threatened her to give it back.

"Viper Delacroix?" a rough voice said.

"Mammon."

"Whatever, kid." Shamal, the head doctor of the infirmary, skimmed Mammon's chart disinterestedly. Yawning, he scratched the back of his head. "Cara, I thought I told you to call me when something's serious."

The nurse looked at him in disbelief. "Doctor, Viper has a broken rib, a sprained ankle, and mild bruising around his throat. How is that—"

"Just dump the kid in a tub of ice," Shamal said, handing the nurse the clipboard. "I'm going back to the office to take a nap."

"Doctor!"

But the man had already left the two alone. Vongola's infirmary had a handful of doctors and a staff of nurses, which had increased since the semester started due to the sudden influx of fights that broke out. It might as well be a mini-hospital and Shamal was notorious amongst the students and faculty for being a complete dunce and womanizer despite his prestigious medical background. If you weren't a girl, he wouldn't treat you.

Cara huffed before forcing on a smile to Mammon. "I'm sorry about that, Viper."

"Mammon."

"Doctor Shamal can be…difficult." Cara checked the IV bag. "Your broken rib thankfully didn't puncture your lung. Does it hurt when you breathe deeply?"

Mammon inhaled. Nothing ached. "No."

"Alright, that's good. You won't develop pneumonia but we'll have to be careful. Most broken ribs heal on their own for around three to six weeks. You're going to have to take a break from activities for a while. I'll give you some ice for now and a note to exclude you from P.E." She gestured at his left ankle, which was elevated above his waist and wrapped in thin cloth. "It's not that bad of a sprain. Don't overexert yourself, alright? If anything hurts, please don't hesitate to call for me or another nurse."

"How much is the bill?" Mammon said, rubbing his bandaged throat. The bruises were sensitive and ached even if his fingers brushed the elastic fabric.

Cara blinked. "Oh, honey, you don't have to worry about that." She smiled brightly. "Your insurance was included in your tuition so you have nothing to worry about. However, we'll have to notify your pare—"

Mammon pursed his lips. "No."

"Pardon?"

"I don't want you to call them." While it could possibly drive Lamia even further in her deranged insanity, Mammon just didn't want anything to do with her. Even the image of her corpse didn't move him. "They're…busy. I don't want to bother them."

A brief moment of silence hung in the small room. Cara chewed on her lip, hesitant. "I'm sorry but—"

"Cara Alfonsi," Mammon said, making the nurse flinch, "I know where you live and I know everything about you down to the accident you had in the 6th grade. Don't test me."

All the color instantly drained from Cara's face. She stuttered out some words before fleeing the room, closing the door behind her. Mammon rubbed his eyes and sighed, leaning back against the large fluffy pillows. It was quiet aside from the clock ticking softly on the wall and a breeze rustling the trees outside his window. He stared at the cream-colored ceiling before clicking his tongue. While provoking Bermuda hadn't been the greatest idea, it was the fastest way to get what he wanted. He'd seen how the other boy reacted to seeing Tsunayoshi with Timoteo. If anything, Bermuda was one of the bigger pieces of who Tsunayoshi was.

Because whoever befriended the von Veckenschtein was someone to not be trifled with. Bel's reaction was also another indicator to the counselor's reputation.

As if on cue, the door creaked open, revealing a panting Tsunayoshi. He looked a little flushed, possibly from running all the way here. Mammon didn't blink when the man laughed sheepishly. "Ah, I'm sorry for intruding," he said. "You are Mr. Delacroix, right?"

"Mammon." The teen felt like a broken record.

Tsunayoshi smiled slightly as he closed the door behind him. "Hello, Mammon. I'm Sa—Ah, Tsunayoshi Sawada."

"I know," Mammon said.

The man brought a chair over to sit by his bedside. His eyes crinkled a little. "I see. It's a little awkward since you seem to know me more than I know you."

Mammon quirked a brow, absently noting Tsunayoshi's missing jacket. Maybe he might have underestimated the other man but that didn't deter him from aiming for his objective. Having the subject of his investigation come to him would be more lucrative in finding the little quirks they had. And Tsunayoshi was here, right where he wanted him.

"What gives you that impression?"

Tsunayoshi didn't seem to be fazed by the blunt words. "You should rest," he said, glancing at his throat. He frowned. "Are you alright? I wish I could've brought Bermuda with me to apologize."

"I'm fine," Mammon said. "This is nothing."

A flash of concern passed in the man's eyes but he didn't push, which Mammon found oddly relieving, if not a little strange. He had seen his fair share of therapists and psychiatrists, most of them eager to "fix" the broken and damaged ones in their species. Neither worked for Lamia. Their valiant efforts brought nothing but empty results.

"I see," Tsunayoshi said. There was no indication in his tone that he was curious or even worried. It was just…calm. "Well, I hope you recover well, Mammon. It seems like Bermuda did a small number on you." He sighed. "I'm not asking you to forgive him. I just wanted to know what happened that made him hurt you like this. He has a temper, but doesn't lash out like that unless something, how should I say this, affected him deeply."

Tsunayoshi and Bermuda clearly has some kind of deep relationship, but it seemed as if Tsunayoshi saw the boy like a student of sorts, a brother possibly. Bermuda's overprotectiveness indicated something further on his end and that only spelled trouble for anyone. Mammon filed that away in his head. Everything and anything counted.

"I don't know," he said. "He just attacked me."

Humming to himself, Tsunayoshi leaned back a little against his seat. "I see. Are you a friend of his?"

"No. We're in the same class."

"Oh, really? Do you enjoy your subjects?" Tsunayoshi chuckled sheepishly. "I actually wasn't the best student when I was in school. Hana—Oh, right, she's Ms. Kurokawa here. I think you might have her. She teaches 9th grade English."

Mammon wondered if Tsunayoshi was a little more dense than his appearance suggested. Still, this wasn't new information to him. There were school records back in Japan that showed that Hana Kurokawa and Tsunayoshi Sawada were in the same class in elementary school before she left for England in the second grade. Though their time was short together, they had corresponded frequently through emails starting from their middle school year. Even with those in hand, Mammon could only get a vague sense of Tsunayoshi's character. Most of the emails were about checking on how each other was doing and their school life. There was one particular message that stuck out to him. Sent on July 22nd, 2017, at 9:53 PM, the email read:  _Hana, I don't think I can do this anymore._

It was only one line, which was a major contrast to the mundane details he'd report to Hana, who mostly responded in shorter, clipped sentences. Hana had responded within 6 minutes:  _Yes, you can, and you will._

There was no other correspondence about it after that. It was as if it never happened, and Mammon had tried connecting the dots but how could he, when there was nothing to connect it to?

"I have her," Mammon said.

Tsunayoshi perked up. "Really? How is she? Do you like her?" He smiled almost impishly. "Don't worry. I won't tell her anything."

Mammon was slightly confused with the direction this conversation was going, but it was more than enough to go on. "She's…adequate."

"Adequate," Tsunayoshi said, as if testing the word on his own tongue. "I guess that's a good thing. Hana's tough but you can learn a lot from her."

"I thought you wanted to know what happened," Mammon said before he caught himself.

Tsunayoshi tapped his chin. "Well, yes, but I think I have a good idea."

Mammon raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

Tsunayoshi smiled, placing a finger against his lips. "It's a secret. You know, sometimes I can be smart when I want to be." He laughed, looking more like a child than an adult. "At least, that's what Hana said." He stood up, adjusting his satchel. "Thank you for having me, Mammon. I really am sorry for what Bermuda did to you. I'll be sure to talk to him so he doesn't do that again. Please don't hesitate to reach out to me if you need anything. Of course, you can also find me in my office in the Eastern Wing. Feel free to drop by sometime."

Mammon blinked. He had expected Tsunayoshi to stay much longer and probably ramble but his visit was short and rather…anti-climactic. "Wait," he said.

Tsunayoshi paused at the door and peered over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"I thought…you were a shrink."

A beat of silence passed until Tsunayoshi chuckled softly. "Yes, I am, but I didn't visit you to counsel you. I came here to check on you."

Mammon pursed his lips, becoming even more confounded. Although he had lured Tsunayoshi to him by provoking the closest link, it was still…strange to be on the receiving end of his seemingly kind act.

"You should rest, Mammon," Tsunayoshi said, opening the door. "Oh, and please tell Reborn that I'd rather talk to him at our meetings rather than have this going on." He smiled. "It can induce some headaches. Take care, Mammon."

With that, he left. Just like that.

Mammon stared at the door for a good few minutes. His lips slightly twitched against his own accord. He seemed to have learn less about the man from personally encountering him than from surfing the databases.

Tsunayoshi appeared to be more difficult than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Lamia is a monster in Greek Mythology. She is half-woman and half-serpent, who used to be a mortal queen until Hera discovered her affair with Zeus. After the goddess killed her children and turned her into a beast, Lamia, overcome with grief, devours children out of revenge.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Little Miss Bunny

**Author's Note:**

> To clarify a few things: The Arcobaleno, including Bermuda, are 15, except Lal Mirch who’s 16. The 10th generation is 14. I guess this could be seen as some character study? Kind of? There's a plot here somewhere. (.﹒︠₋﹒︡.)


End file.
